by Amanda Aksel
I look up into Mick’s blue eyes and wonder if that’s something he can offer. If his eyes are the windows to his soul, then I can tell he’s gentle and easy, comfortable, and I think he likes that I’m here. “Thank you. I appreciate that.”
“Well, I guess I’ll let you get to sleep.”
I glance back at the bed. It would be much cozier if Mick stayed with me. “Yeah.”
Mick leans in and leaves a soft kiss on my cheek. “Goodnight, Beau,” he says in a low voice.
I inhale deeply. Who knew antibacterial soap could smell so good. “Goodnight.”
He pulls away, his eyes falling to my parted lips. Mick and I have a history of lingering a little too long. And it’s gotten us into a lot of trouble. But now I’m here. And I’m pregnant with his baby. What would be the harm if something happened? He leans in, his mouth closing in. My stomach churns abruptly, and I feel something rush up my esophagus.
Uh-oh.
I gag and cover my mouth.
He startles back. “Are you all right?”
I open my mouth to answer, which is a huge mistake. It’s coming. I dart for the bathroom and slam the door shut before spewing my leftover dinner into the sink. Why is it called morning sickness when it occurs just as much past noon?
“Beau.” Mick knocks on the door.
I want to respond, but my stomach twists, and the only thing that comes out is more yuck. After a few deep breaths, I turn on the faucet and rinse my mouth.
“Are you all right?” he asks again.
Staggering back to the floor, I lay my head against the cabinet. “Yeah. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”
“Okay, I’ll be down the hall if you need anything.”
I say nothing, waiting to hear the sound of his footsteps move further and further away until he’s gone.
***
In the morning, the sun fills the room from every gauze-covered window. It’s the kind of heavenly hue that lighting directors shoot for in a romantic fantasy scene. I quickly shower and dress, making sure my foundation is smooth, my eyebrows are well shaped, and my lips are full and shiny with gloss before stepping foot outside the bedroom door. After almost puking in Mick’s mouth last night, I need to counter that by looking like a movie star.
Besides, if we decide to keep the baby, I’ll eventually gain thirty pounds, swollen feet, and a double chin. He needs to see me the way he saw me in New York, not just as the potential mother of his child, just in case things end up working out between us.
I know, I’m getting way ahead of myself. But that’s what I do. I paint perfect pictures. Only, this story is anything but perfect.
Out in the hallway, the sun peaks in from nearby windows and open doors. It’s much brighter than last night. Only now, I can see just how bare the walls really are. I hold my breath, thinking there’s a chance that I’ll run into Mick. But there’s no sight of him before I amble down the grand staircase. There’s no sign of anyone.
“Hello!” I call out. The place is so big, I’m not sure anyone will hear me.
“In here!” Kate’s voice sounds from a distance.
I crane my neck, listening for the direction of her voice. “In where?”
“The kitchen! Just follow my voice.”
The closer I get to the sound, the more I register chatter and forks clinking against plates. My stomach knots as I turn the corner. Kate and Drew sit at the long marble top island eating scrambled eggs with some kind of cheesy-looking toast. A crystal chandelier hangs over their heads, casting even more light on their already bright faces.
“Good morning, sunshine.” Kate smiles, holding up her mug of coffee.
“Good morning.” I step into the warm, spotless gourmet kitchen. It’s at least twice the size of mine, which is already pretty grand by most standards.
Earl walks in wearing a white apron. “Good morning, Ms. Donovan. Shall I cook you some breakfast?”
“Sure,” I say, “I’ll have what they’re having.”
The butler nods, and I take a seat next to my friend. “This place is amazing.”
Drew smirks. “Oh, yeah. Mick’s the golden child. It’s no surprise our grandparents left this manor to him.”
“Speaking of, where is the golden child?” I ask, peering around in case he’s hiding behind the island.
“He already left for the hospital,” Kate offers.
My shoulders suddenly slouch. “Oh, well I guess we should head over after breakfast too.” I grab the French press and a mug from the island.
“Uh-uh-uh,” Kate warns, taking the handle. “You’re pregnant.”
“Yeah, and according to Google, I’m allowed to have a cup of coffee.” I steal it back.
She raises her brow. “Fine. But just one.”
“Of course.” My eyes widen eagerly as I pour the cream into the black liquid. There’s nothing like that first fresh cup of coffee in the morning. But as soon as I hold the cup up to my mouth and take in the full aroma, my stomach churns, and I grimace before setting the cup down.
“Ugh, I can’t.”
“Really?” Kate says, looking surprised. I can’t wait until she gets pregnant so she’ll know what it’s like.
I cover my mouth. “Yeah.”
“How about some peppermint tea?” Drew suggests. “That’s what we used to drink when we felt icky.”
After stomaching peppermint tea and a few bites of eggs, Kate and I head to the hospital while Drew stays behind. When we arrive on my dad’s floor, I can’t help but be distracted by every tall, dark haired man in a white coat, wondering if it’s Mick. It is the weirdest thing, having a crush on someone and at the same time knowing they could potentially be in your life forever, regardless of how they feel about you. It’s like there’s no need to rush.
In his hospital room, Dad sleeps soundly aside from a small crinkly snore. Suzanne sits in the chair, tapping away on her laptop. “Hi, girls.”
“Hey, Suzanne,” we reply.
“How is he?” I ask.
“Aside from being stuck in a bed for the last few days, he’s good. He just fell asleep. The doctor says any extra sleep is good for him. What about you? How was the manor?”
Kate and I share a glance. “It’s gorgeous.”
“So, if Dr. Bonnaire has so much family money, why does he still work?” Suzanne asks. This question might be better suited for Kate, since her husband is the same. Though, taking artistic photographs is not quite as intense as heart surgery.
But I answer anyway. “Dad has plenty of money, and he still works.”
“Point taken.” She looks at him with a long sigh. “I really hope he slows down after all of this. When he went down that day, I thought I was going to lose him forever. I mean, we were going to lose him forever.”
I was certainly afraid of that too. I put my hand on her shoulder, grateful that she’s always there to look after him. “Nah, he’s a fighter.”
“Yes, he is.” She looks at him even more fondly than before. I know that look—that longing gaze. Over thirty years, Suzanne’s been working for my dad, and I don’t ever remember seeing her look at him quite like that. Then again, you don’t know what you’ve got until it’s having a heart attack right in front of you.
Kate and I get comfortable on the tiny, cold leather loveseat in the room. She sketches while I flip through the latest issue of Lux Magazine. But on this day, the popular fashion magazine isn’t holding my attention. I shift my eyes, taking a peak at Kate’s doodle of a lace bra in a deep purple. Her designs always have a way of jumping off the page and evoking some kind of emotion. Maybe it’s just because she’s my best friend and I adore everything she does. But now, looking at the drawing, I almost envision myself wearing that design with a matching pair of panties. And as I see myself in the sexy outfit, I imagine I’m wearing it for someone special. Mick pops in my head. No surprise there. Him and his unbuttoned white shirt. My body reacts, and I squeeze my thighs.
Kate looks over at me. “Ar
e you okay?”
“Yeah, just getting comfortable.”
She flips her book closed. “It’s hard to be creative here.”
I frown. “I’m sorry. You can go back to Mick’s if it’s better for you.”
She takes my hand. “No, it’s okay. This is our last day here anyway. I said I would come be with you, so I’m here.”
“Thank you.” There’s nothing better than a friend you can lean on.
She lays her head back on the edge of the sofa and blows out her cheeks, her hair flying up for a moment. “It’s been a heavy few days, hasn’t it?”
I scoff. “You’re telling me.”
“That’s what I mean. I think we need to do something to loosen up. Let some of this heavy stuff go.”
“Normally, I’d say we could share a bottle of wine later, but that’s out of the question for now.”
“It is for you,” Kate says out of the side of her mouth. “But there has to be something else that we can all do. Because I have to tell you, Beau, I’ve never seen you as tense as you’ve been the last few days. And honestly, it’s freaking me out. Let’s go out and have fun tonight.”
I give her a strange look. “In what world do we live where you’re telling me to loosen up?”
“Crazy how the tables have turned, huh?” What’s crazy and beautiful is that ever since Drew came into Kate’s life, she’s embraced parts of herself that she had forgotten or hadn’t known she had in the first place. She’s become an even better version of herself—someone who values adventure and fun.
Usually, I’m the one trying to break her out of her shell, taking her on adventures, and ensuring she has a good time. Kate was always the stable type. She loves, or at least used to love, predictability. Maybe that’s why our friendship has endured all this time. She gives me roots, and I give her wings.
Now, I’m the one who needs to create stability, especially if I’m going to be someone’s mother. And then it dawns on me. How will motherhood change me? Sure, it will add to my life, all the mom’s I know say so. But what will it take away? What will I be sacrificing for my child? And are those things that I want to give up?
Yes, I’ve always wanted to marry and have a family, but now that I’m faced with a version of that, it’s much more real. And I don’t want to be like my dad, taking off every chance I get so I can feel more like me and less like someone’s parent. For the most part, I like my life the way it is.
“Okay, let’s go out tonight,” I say. Just the thought of doing something more normal gives me a sense of relief.
“I’ll text Drew.” She quickly taps out a message and within a few minutes another comes back. “Drew says it’s ’80s night at Emerald City.”
I haven’t spent enough time in London to know what Emerald City is. But if Drew’s suggesting it, then I’m sure it’ll be a good time. Not to mention, I love the ’80s. “You know what that means, right?”
“What?” she says.
“We’re going to have to go shopping.”
“Now?” she asks.
I look at my dad, sleeping like a rock. “Definitely.”
We grab our things, and Suzanne looks up from her computer. “Are you leaving?” She’s so engrossed in her work that I doubt she heard a word of our conversation.
“Yeah, but I’ll be back later.”
I blow my dad a kiss and we head out. Mick is standing at the nurse’s station. It’s like he knows I’m staring at him because he turns around and looks at me as if I’ve called his name. “Hi.”
I blush. “Hi.”
“Are you feeling better?”
“Yeah.” I lower my eyes. “Thanks.”
“Where are you two headed?” he asks.
Kate grins. “We’re going shopping for tonight.”
He raises his brow. “What’s tonight?”
“Eighties night at Emerald City. We’re all going. You, too, Mick,” she says.
“You want to go to a club?”
“No, need. We need to go to a club and dance the night away. And so do you. You’re so serious all the time.”
It’s true. Mick is the more serious type, but I’ve seen him lighten up a few times, especially in New York. My eyes meet his the moment I remember him licking between my thighs. I feel my cheeks flush even more. “Anyway, we should go. We’ll see you later, Mick.”
17
I T’S ALMOST NINE O’CLOCK when I leave the hospital, and it’s been a long day. If it weren’t for Beau, I would not be going out tonight. I don’t have time to go home and change, not that I have anything resembling the ’80s in my closet. Maybe my dad’s old Members Only jacket is somewhere in storage. Jeans and a dark gray T-shirt are about the most ’80s I can manage right now.
When I walk into Emerald City, a club I’ve been to on several occasions this past year, it’s packed with women in hot pink leggings, big hair, and guys in MC Hammer pants. The entire club is lit up with a mix of neon colors—blue, pink, and yellow. I check my phone again.
DREW: We’re at a table near the bar.
I squeeze my way around the crowd while Bowie booms through the bar. Drew is dressed in his usual white tee and leather jacket, this time sporting a long earring like he’s George Michael. That better not be a real piercing. Kate stands next to him in a tight, electric-blue dress with her hair teased or crimped or something.
“There he is.” Drew points my way, and Beau whips her head around. Her side ponytail almost smacks her in the face.
She smiles, keeping her eyes on mine. “You made it.”
“Yeah, you look great. Very ’80s,” I say, taking notice of her cut-off gray sweater and multicolored spandex pants.
She scrutinizes my clothes. “Thanks! You look . . . pretty modern.”
“I didn’t have time to shop.”
“No worries,” Beau says. “We’re just here to have fun.”
Drew waves me over to his side of the table and hands me a shot. “Here, this will help,” he says in my ear over the music.
“Help what?”
“C’mon, man. You just found out you’re going to parent a child with someone you don’t know very well. I know it’s weighing on you.”
He’s right. It definitely makes life a lot more complicated. Especially since Beau and I haven’t talked about whether or not we want to go through with it. There’s a huge part of me that wants her to keep the baby, and the other part of me thinks it’s crazy.
“You know me so well.” I smirk and take the shot, squinting from the sharp burn as it hits my chest.
The song changes to a semi-familiar beat. Drew and Kate look at each other with wide eyes of surprise. He extends his hand, and she takes it. “It’s Billy. We gotta go!” The two of them jet off.
“You know this song?” I ask Beau.
She shakes her head. “I’m more into fun pop like Cindy Lauper.”
“So, are you feeling okay? Any more morning sickness?”
She crinkles her nose. “Not since this afternoon. Sorry about last night. That was . . .”
“Inconvenient?” I offer.
“I was going to say gross, but I prefer your spin on it.”
“I just hope it doesn’t mean that the idea of kissing me makes you ill,” I joke.
She giggles. “What? Of course it doesn’t.”
“Good. Because I was starting to feel bad about myself.” I smile, trying not to laugh.
“Please, there’s no reason for you to feel bad about anything.”
“And there’s no reason for you to be sorry,” I say.
Her eyes begin to sparkle at me, and it’s like we’re back at the table during Drew and Kate’s wedding reception. With nothing ahead of us but a good night. I spy a familiar face out of the corner of my eye and turn away from Beau for a second.
Uh-oh.
It’s Trish—a woman I spent a night with. After that, she kept showing up at the hospital looking for me. I had to tell her to stop coming around or I’d have to have
her banned.
Beau looks in her direction. “Who are you looking at?”
My face turns blood red, realizing I’m about to sound like a total ass. “A girl I . . . dated.”
She swallows hard but tries to maintain an unconcerned smile. “Was it serious?”
“No.” I lower my eyes, ashamed.
“Mick, it’s okay. I’ve dated a lot of men too.”
I know she said it to make me feel better, but the thought of Beau being with anyone else is torture.
“Uh-oh. I think she’s coming over here,” I say.
“Why don’t you talk to her?”
“I’ve tried but she just doesn’t take no for an answer.”
Beau bounces her brows. “I’ve got an idea.”
I sit, waiting to hear her brilliant plan when she wraps her arm around my neck and pulls me in for a wet and wild kiss. She tastes like lime juice and strawberry bubble gum. I put my hand on her waist, pull her closer to me, and kiss her harder, completely forgetting about Trish, about the club, about any of it. For the moment, it’s just the two of us.
Beau pulls away, catching her breath, and I do the same. “She’s gone,” she says, glancing over.
“Thanks.” I have no idea if that kiss was about Trish or about Beau, but either way, I want to do it again. In fact, I need to have her again. Tonight, I want Beau all to myself. The disco lights glide through the crowd as the Billy Joel song morphs into another pop song.
Beau grins. “Oh, my God! This is my song! Come on.” She pulls my hand, yanking me to the dance floor. As far as I’m concerned, she can have whatever she wants tonight. She sings the lyrics and dances like Madonna. Damn, she’s adorable. The smile on her face gets bigger and bigger as I do my best to keep up with her on the dance floor. I can’t remember the last time I danced to this kind of music. But watching Beau let loose and have a great time completely distracts me from the fact that I might be making an idiot of myself.
The whiskey hits me just enough to allow my shoulders to relax, and I grin harder at Beau. I close my eyes, surrendering to the moment. Just like our kiss, nothing else exists except for her and me. Beau sings, bopping her head, and pointing at me like she’s in a music video and I’m her co-star. Then, the song shifts into something much more mellow. Couples around us begin to sway, men grabbing their girl’s waist and women wrapping their arms around their man’s neck. I extend my hand to Beau and pull her in. Now, this is my kind of dancing.
